


The first time I fell in love with you

by Nervous_Squid



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Amnesia, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Holt and McClain Family Cameos, Post S7, Romance, Same concept as the Vow but diff plot, Spoilers, as canon compliant as possible
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 09:59:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15906018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nervous_Squid/pseuds/Nervous_Squid
Summary: Lance wakes up to find the last six years of his memory missing.Instead of laser fire and armour he finds clear blue skies and sandy beaches.Instead of Pidge his best friend he finds Katie his wife.





	1. Remember Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm planning on making this a multichap fic which should only take about five chapters, but we know that never goes to plan so here's hoping. 
> 
> This is just an idea I had based on what it would be like if Lance couldn't remember falling in love with Pidge so here's yet another amnesia fic. 
> 
> I seriously need to work on summaries and titles.

The incessant beeping was the first thing that came into focus as if someone had finally found the correct frequency for a radio station. 

His body spasmed in protest when he tried to move, even his eyes were too heavy to open. The back of his head ached in particular, he must have taken far more hits then he thought.

He tried to remember how their last battle went but he could only see images blurred by laser fire flicker in his mind.

The soft sheets he was lying on couldn’t be the floors of a Galra ship but they weren't soft enough to be his own bed either.  

He quickly started to regain his senses, noticing that this place didn’t smell like the castle. The usual sweet smell of Hunk’s cooking wasn’t wafting through the room, even the stench of grease from whatever new project Pidge was tinkering with wasn’t permeating the walls either. This place smelled clean, reminding him of the chlorine filled swimming pools back on earth. 

It was cold, the sheets under him weren’t enough to prevent the goose bumps rising on his arms. He was surprised to find his right arm wasn’t shivering like the rest of him. There was something warm smothering his arm. He could feel something squeezing his hand, not to the point of discomfort but whatever was laying on him was heavy.

He tried to open his eyes again, with slightly more success only to be overwhelmed by the light flooding the space. He screwed his eyes shut while a cool breeze brushed over him. He tried to remember if he left his window open last night-

His room _didn’t_ have windows.

The realisation made his heart skip a beat. His eyes adjusted to the light and he slowly began to take in his surroundings, he looked out the window in question to find blue skies and tarmac peeking through. He definitely wasn’t on the castle.

The beeping was growing faster accompanied by rapid throbbing against his chest. He blinked realising that plain white walls surrounded him instead of the usual metal plates of the castle. The beeping was relentless but it only spurred Lance’s mind into overdrive. He noticed several wires were attached to him, he followed one back to the source of the noise, a screen with a flashing line running across it. He recognised it as a heartrate monitor.

His breathing stopped when he realised that the weight on his arm was actually a warm body. He wrenched his arm out of the stranger’s grasp, trying to edge away from them in the space the bed confined him in.

He watched breathlessly while the stranger roused, rubbing sleep from their eyes. Lance’s gaze automatically darted around the room searching for possible exit points. He huffed when the only exits he spotted were the open window and the doorway behind this stranger.

He felt his muscles tense when he noticed the familiar weight of his armour was missing. He cursed under his breath when he surveyed the room again to find no sign of his bayard either.

“Lance?” a voice croked out.

His attention was snapped back to the stranger, anxiety hurtling through his insides. The stranger appeared unarmed, but he refused to let his guard down. He was hit with a nauseating sense of familiarity as he looked over the woman’s tousled brown hair and pale skin. He could feel his stomach drop when he looked into her golden eyes.

“Pidge?” he breathed, keeping his muscles tense. He could feel the lump forming in his throat when he realised it wasn’t her. It couldn’t be her, despite their similarities, this _couln't_ be Pidge.

“You need to breathe, Lance,” she said, concerning herself with his heart rate monitor, “Your heart rate is through the roof”

Lance refused to follow her gaze, keeping his eyes trained on her every movement.

“Just try to inhale,” she said, doing the action herself before releasing her breath slowly, “and exhale, you need to calm-”

“Who are you?” he said, unsure of himself, clutching at the sheets surrounding him.

She looked back at him, her forehead creasing in confusion. Lance, frowned in recognition, he’d seen Pidge wearing that look before.

“Lance,” she whispered, her voice betraying her concern, “It’s me, Katie”

“That’s not possible,” Lance said, his confusion amplifying the ache in the back of his head, “You’re not Pidge”

“Lance,” she said softly, her eyes studying his face with what he registered as tenderness.

Lance stared back at her as she moved closer to him. He moved away automatically, the rustle of the bedsheets accompanying the soft breeze of the wind.

“It is me” she said, her voice steady as she reached for him.

Lance heard the heart monitor pick up speed before he felt the matching thrum speed up against his chest. His hands shot forward, grabbing her wrists, preventing her from moving any closer.

“What have you done with my team?” he said, glaring at her bewildered expression, “where are my friends? Where’s Allura?”

“Lance” she said, struggling against his grip, “You need to calm down”

“What happened after that last battle?” he repeated, trying to hide the worry in his voice,

Lance could hear his own teeth grinding against each other while she stopped struggling against him, her gaze boring into his..

“Lance,” she said slowly, “Our last battle was six years ago”

“What are you talking about?” he said, his grip on her loosening.

“you’ve been in the hospital for the last two days” she said, tears sneaking into the corners of her eyes, “You were in a car crash, Lance”

Lance stared silently at the woman in front of him. Her mouth continued moving but he couldn't make out what she was saying anymore, instead, a sharp ring reverberated in his ears, engulfing the whistling breeze and the rapid beeps of his heart rate. She slipped out of his grip at some point, leaving the room only to return with several people dressed in white coats. Lance tried to figure out the last thing he had been doing but all he managed was to amplify the ache in the back of his head. The pain knocked him breathless, causing the people in front of him to become blurred shapes and colours. His vision was only exacerbated by the cold tears glazing over his eyes. He vaguely registered someone grabbing him and a sharp prick on his shoulder before his world slowly came back into focus.

* * *

 

“Mr. McClain’s injuries seem to be healing fine,” the doctor said, removing the different wires and tubes attached to him with a sharp tug, “the only issue is this memory loss”

Lance watched wordlessly while the doctor continued to talk to her. He could feel an ache building behind his eyes as he stared at her. He struggled to reconcile the image of this woman with his friend. He searched her face for more similarities but every time he found something that had stayed the same, he found something that had changed. Her clothes were different. Although, that made sense with the lack of clothing options in space. She was wearing a simple pair of jeans and a light pink shirt that was still too long with the sleeves slipping past her wrists. Still, he found he missed the way her old clothes engulfed her, making her seem much smaller than she really was. 

The hair was something he’d have to get used to. It wasn’t much longer than before but it was finally long enough to be tied up into a pony tail. He found some comfort in the fact that her hair was still a mess, several strands of her hair had escaped her hair tie, framing her face.

Lance could feel something stuck in his throat as he studied her face. She hadn’t changed much, the angle of her jaw seemed sharper but her eyes were still the same. He could still catch the curiosity shining through whenever she peeked at him, only dulled slightly with concern.

This was Pidge, he repeated silently to himself. This Pidge was six years older. He wondered, if she was still the same Pidge.

“Mr. McClain, I’ll need to see you again in a few weeks to make sure everything is still in working order,” the doctor said, trying to engage him in the conversation. Lance’s mind was far too occupied to muster up any interest so he settled for nodding politely.

“You’re free to leave as soon as you’re ready,” he continued, “I’ll leave it to Mrs. McClain to book your next appointment”

Lance was snapped back to attention, staring at the doctor as if he had just sprouted a second head. He looked back at Pidge who thanked the doctor, shaking the man’s hand. His eyes were drawn to the gold band on her finger, glaring back at him. Lance’s eyes drifted down his arm, somehow unsurprised to find the matching ring on his own hand.

Lance had been electrocuted before, the feeling of every muscle contracting at once, leaving him quivering with a heightened sense of everything. He recognised the same sensation as he felt the intense tangle of emotions bubble up from somewhere within him. He was far too exhausted to discern what each feeling could represent. His entire body ached from trying to piece itself back together and he could hear the call of sleep ringing in his ears.

She waited for the door to swing shut after the doctor before she pulled a chair over to his bed. Lance self-consciously smoothed down the sheets over him, trying to ignore the gold band burning into his skin.

“How are you feeling?” she said, looking directly at him. The feeling of vulnerability prickled against his skin.

“I’m not sure,” he said honestly. He avoided meeting her gaze, instead, focusing on the low quality of the hospital’s cotton sheets. “There’s a lot to take in, I'm not even sure if you're really Pidge”

“I am Pidge,” she reassured him softly.

“How am I supposed to believe that?” he said, looking back at the familiar face of a stranger, “The last time I saw you your hair was different, your face was chubbier-”

“My face was never chubby,” she cut in indignantly.

“How can you be the same person?” he finished quietly.

“I’m not the same person that you ‘remember’,” she said, looking at him in earnest, “I’ve been through a lot in the last six years, but I’m still Pidge”

Lance searched her face but found nothing but sincerity looking back at him. He had seen this look a hundred times since he first met her. This wasn’t the Pidge he knew but at least his Pidge was in their somewhere.

“Are we… married?” he asked, a blush dusting his cheeks. He already knew the answer, he realised there were very few ways for her to have become Mrs. McClain, unless she had ended up marrying one of his brothers.

“It was one year ago,” she said, playing with the ring on her finger, “we actually got married here”

“In the hospital?” he said, the memory failing to materialize in his mind, frustration taking its place.

“On the beach,” she said, rolling her eyes at him, “We’re in Varadero”

“I’m home?” he asked quietly, looking out the windows, taking in the darkening skies he had missed for so long. His brain slowly filled of memories of sand tickling his toes, the cool waves sweeping across his feet while he enjoyed the changeing colours of the fading sunlight. The memory was so strong he could feel his heart pound against his chest as he remembered the faces of his family, the ones he etched into his memory, thinking that he would never be able to see them again. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” she said, bringing him back to their conversation. 

“I… we had made it back to earth,” he said, his mind drifting to hazy images of their last battles, “we were fighting Sendak”

“Do you remember what happened after?” she said, catching his attention.

“Not really,” he said, images flashing through his mind, blurred with pain and frustration, “Is it safe to assume we won?”

“Yes,” she said.

Lance peered at her carefully. Her voice was clear and confident but he couldn’t feel victory rolling off of her. He couldn’t make sense of everything she was feeling, the emotions kept spinning through her eyes, making him dizzy.

“How did I end up here?” he said.

“You were in a car accident two days ago, the other driver was drunk,” she said, anguish seeping in to her voice, “It was touch and go for a while, but you pulled through”

“Are you ok?” he said, recognising the exhaustion on her features.

“I’m ok” she laughed, the sound easing the tension in his shoulders, “Are you ok? You were the one in a car accident”

“It’s my memories I’m more concerned about,” he said, “One minute we’re fighting against the Galra, the next I find out I’m married to you”

“Well, at least I’m not as bad as the Galra,” she teased, leaning back in her chair.

“How am I supposed to be sure, Pidge?” he asked, easing into their banter, “Track record shows you’re likely to electrocute me”

“A lot has changed in six years, Lance” Pidge said, smiling at the memory.

“Do you think I’ll get my memory back?” he asked, the lightness of their conversation evaporating into the air between them.

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice unsteady for the first time since he woke up, “For now, let’s take you home”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to explore how the characters would feel about this.  
> I've always felt that while Plance may not occur by the end of the series, it could certainly happen afterwards.  
> I wanted to capture what it would be like for the Lance who only saw Pidge as a friend to suddenly meet her as his wife, the woman he has sworn to love for the rest of his days.  
> Yes there is also the issue of Lance liking other women before this, and I love Allura, she's such a badass up there with Pidge and the rest of our gang and she will be loved in this fic too but Im excited to delve into how Lance feels about Allura and how shocking it will be for him if he ends up married to Pidge, and of course how Pidge will take all this.  
> omg this is turning into an essay,


	2. Home is where the heart is supposed to be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter. It's about twice as long as the first, I've never done a multichap before so I'm splitting the chapters up mainly based on location/mood - mostly location.
> 
> Also thank you all so much for all your kudos and the reviews.

“Are you ok to walk?” she asked, routing through her bag for their house keys.

“I’m ok” he said, closing the car door, “If I can survive your driving, I think I can survive the walk to the front door”

Pidge scoffed as she brushed past him, grumbling something about who managed to get their driver’s license first.

The sun had set sometime on their way over from their hospital, but Lance could still see the house looming over him clearly enough. Pidge had explained to Lance that this was their summer home. He recognised the stretch of land when they approached, it was situated just outside the town, hidden away from the overwhelming bustle of the tourist areas but close enough to the beach that he could taste the salt in the air.

The house was a single story building that boasted a gorgeous veranda in the front. There were a dangerously large amount of flowers growing away from the house’s windows and the front door. He suspected Pidge’s allergies had a large part to play in their landscaping.

“Hold this for a second,” she said, placing a duffel bag full of clothes and snacks that she had brought to the hospital in to his arms. She finally fished out her keys and opened their door.

He was hit with a cold wave of discomfort as he stepped in. The walls were a tasteful shade of green, with the floors covered in tiles that were a lighter shade. He began taking off his shoes at Pidge’s insistence, after she took her bag from him and disappeared down the corridor. He awkwardly searched the entrance for somewhere to put his shoes. He decided to settle for leaving them next to where Pidge haphazardly threw hers. He noticed a pair of blue slippers laid down neatly against the wall of their entranceway. He suspected they belonged to him. He doubted Pidge could walk if she wore them around the house. He awkwardly stepped into them, the warm feeling he usually associated with slippers escaping him.

Pidge reappeared from one of the rooms in the corridor and ushered him forward, past the pictures framed in the hallway filled with the photos of forgotten memories.

“So,” Pidge began, pointing down the corridor, “That was the entranceway, the first door on the left is to the living room, through here is the kitchen, the bathroom is down the corridor and at the end is our room, got it?”

“I… think so,” Lance said, eyes chasing after the various directions she pointed out at once.

“If you get lost just shout,” she said, smiling up at him, “You can take a shower first while I start dinner”

“Thanks,” he said, before her words registered in his mind, “Wait, did you say you’re going to cook?”

“I can cook” she laughed, smiling at the anxiousness in his voice, “I promise you won’t die of food poisoning”

“I’d like us to aim a little higher than _not dying_ ,” he said, brows furrowed.

“It will be edible” she said, slipping into the kitchen, “We won’t be making another trip to the hospital at least”

“That’s not reassuring,” he called after her, turning to the hallway to decide which door could possibly lead to the bathroom.

* * *

Lance was able to figure out which bathrobe was his easily enough but he wasn’t as confident deciding which towel was his, with only a blue and green towel to choose from he assumed that they hadn’t changed preference that much in six years. Both towels smelled too similar to pick them apart that way but he figured Pidge wouldn’t care too much.

He was thankful that even six years later his beauty products were still fully stocked. Seeing the different creams and washes laid out above their sink brought him more comfort than he realised, serving as a reminder that this was at some point his home. He couldn’t help but glare at the other soaps and creams he didn’t recognise cluttered in between his products. He realised they probably belonged to Pidge. He supposed that six years weren’t enough to shake off all of her messy tendencies.

His eyes wandered back to the ring resting on his finger. It continued to weigh heavily on his hand, the smooth metal imprinting into his skin. He began removing the ring, considering it a nuisance to moisturize with, twisting it until it came loose. He was surprised to see a red mark lying underneath the ring, he reasoned that this was normal when you constantly wore something. His mind drifted to blurry images of various jewellery stores with too many rings to choose from, too out of focus to figure out what each one was. The ache in the back of his head began thrumming as he tried to sift through his memories, the last six years slipping through his fingers. He huffed, leaving his ring on his finger and abandoning his moisturising routine for the night.

He walked into the hallway, dragging the leftover steam with him to the bedroom. He wrapped his bathrobe tighter against the chill of the corridor while he searched for the light switch to the bedroom. The lights switched on, highlighting the spacious room in front of him. It was much larger than his room on the castle, fitting a double bed and two dressers. Even with the curtains hindering his view he could still recognise the beach stretching out in front of the window. Lance noticed a set of pyjamas spread out on the bed, he picked them up, realising his underwear was laid out for him as well. He felt the embarrassment prickle against his skin when he thought of Pidge handling his clothes. He quickly donned them, repeating to himself that this was normal for a married couple. He just needed to remember that he was currently one half of a married couple. 

* * *

Lance feels his mouth water at the familiar aroma drifting through the hallway. He follows it back to the kitchen where he finds the kitchen counter covered with various containers, all filled with familiar spices he didn’t think he’d ever see again. Lance turns to the stove to find Pidge peering into a pot.

“It’s looking good,” Pidge said, into the phone squeezed between her shoulder and her cheek, “It looks just like how we made it the last time”

“What are you cooking?” Lance said, chuckling to himself as steam quickly fogged up her glasses.

“Hold on a sec,” Pidge said into the phone, before turning to him, “It’s tamal en cazuela”

“You know how to cook tamal en cazuela?” Lance said, smiling as memories of his family eating together flashed through his mind.

“Of course she can cook tamal en cazuela, I taught her myself,” a voice rang out from the phone.

Lance’s face froze as he stared at the phone Pidge was now passing to him. He could feel tears building up in the corner of his eyes when he thought of how long it had been since he last heard that voice. He looked at Pidge for reassurance, finding her smiling fondly at him as she urged him to take the phone.

“Mom?” he said, a lump in his throat making it far too difficult to form words.

“Are you ok, dear?” she said, her warm voice enveloping him, “Katie told me what happened, when I get a hold of that other driver I swear-”

“Mom,” Lance laughed in disbelief, “You have no idea how amazing it is to hear your voice”

Lance could feel the prickle of tears in his eyes accompanied by the curl in his insides. He held onto the phone with both hands, afraid that his only connection with his mother might vanish into thin air. The immovable weight that had been pressing on his shoulders after his time in space was suddenly lifted with the ramblings of his mother. He saw Pidge sneaking a glances at him while she busied herself with her cooking, he threw a grateful smile in her direction before returning to his conversation.

“Oh Lance, I’m sorry your Dad and I are on holiday,” she said, worry in her voice, “We’re already on our way home, we should be there in the next few days, as soon as our flights are booked”

“I’ve really missed you,” he said, his voice cracking. 

“We’ve missed you too,” she said, “We’ll see you and Katie soon”

“I really want to give you a hug right now,” he said, an overwhelming feeling of happiness bursting through him.

“I love you, Lance,” she said, her voice sounding teary, “but please try and avoid any more accidents and make sure to do what Katie tells you, I know how irritating you can be when other people are trying to take care of you”

“I love you too, mom,” he laughed, finding Pidge smiling back at him while she tended to their dinner.

“I’d love you more if you made me another grandchild,” his dad’s voice cut in, accompanied by his mom’s laughter.

“Dad!” he said, feeling equal parts elated and mortified to hear his dad’s voice.

“Hey dad,” Pidge said, amused at the horrified look on Lance’s face.

“Hey Katie, I hope you’ve been getting some sleep,” he said, “You better have a lot of rest planned after all the two of you have been through”

“I got some sleep at the hospital, dad,” she smiled, avoiding Lance’s curious gaze, “You two should be getting some sleep, it’s already 4 AM over there”

“We’ll get some rest now, it’s good to hear that the both of you are ok” he said, “We’ll call you later”

A chorus of goodbyes and several ‘I love you’s crossed over the phone before they managed to finally hang up.

“Where are they?” Lance asked, trying to taste their food before Pidge slapped his hand away.

“They’re on holiday in London right now,” Pidge said, turning off the stove and opening up another cupboard, “The others are all over the place, Veronica’s still in Arizona, Marco and Julia are visiting her so the only ones here right now are us and Luis and his family, they’ll probably visit in the next few days, it’s been hard for them to travel with Melissa pregnant again”

“How are they?” Lance said, watching as Pidge carefully brought down their plates.

“They’re all in good health,” she reassured him, “I’ve been on the phone non-stop, rotating through all our family members while you were asleep”

Pidge smiled warmly at him even while she complained, showing him that she was clearly teasing. Lance smiled widely at the prospect of seeing all his family members soon, even some new additions. 

“You.. call my mom and dad,” he began, a warm feeling fluttering in his chest, “mom and dad?”

“It’s only fair,” Pidge said, separating their food onto the plates, “You call my mom and dad, mom and dad too, it gets confusing if we talk about our parents in the same conversation though”

“That’s really…nice,” Lance said, smiling softly as they moved to the dining table.

“Before you say anything,” Pidge said, grinning as she pointed a spoon at him, “My tamal en cazuela is definitely better than yours- not as good as mom’s but-" 

“Hold on, there's no way yours is _better,_ ” Lance said, glaring at the raised spoon before smacking it with his own, “My tamal en cazuela is the closest possible one to mom’s, mine even beats Marco’s”

“That was a long time ago Lance, I’ve spent the last six years under Mom’s tutelage,” Pidge said, smirking at him.

“That’s ridiculous,” Lance said, shoving a bite into his mouth.

He tried to maintain his glare as the flavours hit him, the savoury bite melting in his mouth, reminding him distinctly of his own mother’s recipe. He groaned when he noticed the smug grin on Pidge’s face as she began eating, humming happily to herself.

“I can still _pronounce_ it better than you,” Lance muttered bitterly, as he dug in.

* * *

“What’s this for?” Lance asked, shifting on their living room’s couch to make more room for Pidge while she set up a computer screen.

“I think it’s a good idea to look at some of our old photos to try and jog your memory,” Pidge said, opening and closing several folders while she searched for the correct one.

“Do you recognise this place?” Pidge said, pointing to the photo on the screen.

“This is… the house we’re in now,” Lance said, the photo in front of him showed a house similar in structure to the house they were currently in, there weren’t any flowers growing in front of it yet and a lot of the woodwork seemed to be missing but Lance was sure it was still the same house. He quietly tried to remember what the house was like during that point in time, his memories drawing up blank.

“Do you remember how we got this house?” Pidge said, looking at him hopefully.

“No,” he said, gazing back at her curiously.

“We were looking for a house here for a while but we finally found this place one day by accident when we were playing hide and seek with Marco’s kids and they got lost here,” she said, smiling fondly at the screen, “I hated the place at first, but you were convinced it would be perfect”

“I can’t really remember that,” Lance admitted, trying to imagine the scene in his head, “but I’m glad to know I was right”

Pidge rolled her eyes at Lance’s smirk before flicking to the next photo.

Lance grinned upon seeing the photo of Pidge, Hunk and himself in front of the garrison, smiling ear to ear as they saluted for the cameras.

“Did we become officers?” Lance said, staring incredulously at the grey uniform he was wearing in the photo.

“You should have seen the look on Iverson’s face when we re-enrolled,” Pidge said, smiling at the memory, “He tried kicking us out a couple times while we were there for insubordination-”

“Insubordination?” Lance said, looking at her curiously.

“Let’s just say _someone_ decided it would be fun to take the atlas for a joy ride,” Pidge said, raising an eyebrow at him pointedly.

“I would never have-” Lance began, stopping himself short when he thought about it carefully, “I mean it does make for a pretty awesome robot”

“We were lucky we had the head of the garrison on our side,” Pidge laughed, “It helps that Shiro likes us”

“Shiro became head of the garrison?” Lance said, sitting up in the plush couch in excitement, “What did we become?”

“Well, I’m one of their science officers,” Pidge said proudly, “but Shiro forces me to teach in between exploration missions”

“What do I do?” Lance asked tentatively, almost afraid of what his future could hold.

“Who do you think my pilot is?” Pidge smiled, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I’m a garrison pilot,” Lance breathed, childhood dreams of being the next Takashi Shirogane flashing past him.

“You also teach at the garrison,” Pidge pointed out.

“Do we teach with Iverson?” Lance asked excitedly.

“Iverson was actually promoted to Principal,” Pidge laughed, “Our staff parties are amazing, there should be a photo of our end of year party here somewhere-”

“Wait, what about team Voltron?” Lance asked, the anxiousness in his voice causing Pidge to stop her search, “Are we not paladins anymore?”

“We’re still Paladins,” Pidge said, “but we rarely have to go on missions as Voltron with the universe in relative peace, our lions are kept at the garrison in the meantime”

“Do we still see the others?” Lance asked, his excitement from earlier melting away.

“We see Shiro and Hunk a lot since they’re both based on earth,” Pidge said, “The others are harder to reach whenever they’re out of the milky way”

“What are they doing up there?” Lance asked.

“Well, Keith ended up sticking with Kolivan and Krolia to reform the Blade of Marmora, they’ve been instrumental in maintaining peace within the remnants of the Galra empire, the others-” she began, a certain tightness in her voice, “Coran and Allura have been spearheading the coalition, so they come back to earth pretty often whenever they’re not off convincing more planets to join us”

“All of that sounds amazing,” Lance said, thinking wistfully about the lost memories of his friends and family, “Do we have any more photos”

Pidge happily complied, she began speeding through various photos to try and get Lance to remember something. Lance watched as images flashed by, most featuring themselves or members of their family. The photos themselves didn’t ring any bells apart from the people featured in the, except a particular photo of Pidge peeking over a menu that had ‘La Gruta’ written on it.

“I think I know this place,” he said, pointing at the restaurant in the background, “My family used to eat here sometimes when I was younger”

“It is!” Pidge said, leaning forward eagerly, “Do you remember why we were there?”

Lance studied the picture carefully, trying to imagine the moment shown in the photo. The back of his head began to ache again as he searched through his memories but he found nothing except faint sounds of laughter ringing in his ears.

“I can’t remember,” he huffed, he didn’t miss the way Pidge’s shoulders dropped as she moved on to the next photos claiming that he would remember something eventually.

“Do you remember this one?” she said, pointing hopefully to another photo.

“I don’t think so,” Lance admitted, furrowing his brows.

“How about this one?”

“No”

“Do you remember eating here?”

“Not really”

They continued flicking through their photos until Lance stops her from changing to the next one. He recognises the faces in the picture on the screen immediately, Allura and Keith were in the centre of the shot. He recognises the familiar way his insides twist as he studies the picture. She hadn’t changed much, even though the picture seemed to be dated quite recently. A small smile crept onto his face when he noticed she was in earth clothes, a stretch from her usual dress or armour. His smile faded when he noticed how close she was to Keith in this photo. He blinked a few times as he studied the photo more closely, he recognised the arm around her waist as none other than Keith’s. The realisation causing a nauseating feeling of jealousy to wash over him.

“When was this?” he asked, anxiously hoping he was seeing things.

When he didn’t receive an answer Lance finally tore his gaze away from the photo to find golden eyes staring at him. Their team had had a long time to get to know each other during their time in space. That time was spent picking up each other’s habits and learning each other’s tells but for some reason he couldn’t read what Pidge could be thinking. She just continued to stare silently at him. A flurry of emotion clouded over her eyes, too many feelings flitting past for Lance to pick apart each one.

“Pidge?” he said, waving a hand in front of her face.

“Sorry” Pidge said, the storm in her eyes snapping back to the clarity he was comfortable with, “It’s been a long day”

She stretched her arms upwards, yawning simultaneously. Lance couldn’t help the twitch in his jaw as he echoed her yawn.

“I think it’s time we get to sleep,” she laughed.

“I guess it is pretty late,” Lance said, noticing that it was already five to midnight according to her computer.

Pidge grabbed her laptop, balancing it between her arm and her hip. Lance followed her to their bedroom, he watched as Pidge swiftly deposited her laptop in one of the drawers of their dresser. Lance shifted his weight from one foot to the other as Pidge bustled around the bedroom. He thought about how they’ve spent nights together before, game nights that had gone on far too late usually ended up with Pidge sleeping on the many pillows of his room. There had never been any issue, but he could still feel the tense nervousness preventing blocking him from making himself comfortable enough to sleep together.

“Lance, you need to relax,” Pidge said, smirking up at him, hugging a pillow in her arms, “Inhale, exhale remember?”

“I’m perfectly relaxed,” Lance said, crossing his arms over his chest, “I’m just trying to remember what side of the bed I sleep on”

“You usually take the left, closest to the window,” she replied, setting her glasses down on the bedside table, “but you’re welcome to sleep on my side tonight if you like, I’ll be taking the couch”

“You’re not sleeping here?” he said, an irritating heat creeping towards his cheeks.

“Lance, a fist bump was probably the most intimate thing you remember doing with me” she said, sneaking past him into the hallway, “Sleeping together is a pretty big step up from that”

Lance struggled not to choke on air as he trailed after her, hoping the blush on his cheeks wasn’t too obvious in the dark.

“I can take the couch,” he said, after catching his breath.

“That’s nice of you,” Pidge said, already settling into the couch cushions, “but you’re a few inches shy of six feet and this is a very short couch, so you need to be a good patient and go to sleep in the bedroom”

“but-”

“Go to bed or I’m calling your mom,” Pidge threatened, pointing in the direction of their room.

Lance trudged back to their bedroom, mumbling complaints on his way about the misuse of mothers in winning arguments.

* * *

The salty smell of the ocean was carried into the room by a cool breeze through the open window but it didn’t allow him to fully escape the heat. Lance continued to toss and turn, searching the bed for somewhere cold on the mattress. He was still unwilling to intrude on Pidge’s side of the bed, the thought of even borrowing her colder pillow felt like some sort of violation. He sighed as the distinct scent of Pidge continued to overwhelm him as much as the heat, he couldn’t figure out exactly what her scent was like except that it was undoubtedly her. He traced the shadow of the slight dip on her side of the mattress, his mind wandered to what it would be like sleeping next to her. He recalled how they had found Pidge on several occasions the wrong way around on her own bed in the castle, her covers a tangled mess between her limbs. He suddenly felt the fleeting sensation of a warm body wrapped under his arms. He wondered if the feeling was another lost memory, or a heat induced hallucination.

He rolled onto his stomach as he tried to bury his growing frustration in his pillows, the soft textiles failing to soothe him. He closed his eyes while the ache in the back of his head relentlessly reminded him that he had lost the last six years of his life. Six years of adventure, of friendship, of love was missing. The reality of his situation was too difficult for him to fully grasp in the early hours of the morning. He was, at least, comforted by the fact that he didn’t wake up to find himself married to a complete stranger.

  
He peered down at the ring on his finger. The hints of moonlight seeping in through the window highlighted the gold band in the darkness of the room, its presence unrelenting. He continued to stare, thinking back to the rings his parents must still be wearing, and to the rings they helped pick out for his brother. He had understood what wearing a wedding ring stood for but he didn’t realise how wearing one could make you feel. He felt the heat in the room amplify as he remembered that he was married now. He thought back to the days before he was involved in an intergalactic war, back when he used to read about a knight in shining armour who rescued a beautiful princess from some monster before they fell in love, got married and lived happily ever after. He laughed sardonically when he realised that the only things true in those stories were the monsters. He managed a smile when he failed to picture Pidge as some damsel in distress, he recalled far too many moments when it was Pidge saving his own skin from danger. The realisation that his wife wasn’t just a faceless figment of his imagination and instead sleeping down the hallway sent a warm sensation burning through his skin, forcing him to roll himself out of the bed.

Lance heard the distant echo of waves crawling across the ocean, urging him outside into cooler air. He made his way into the hallway, imagining the soothing effect the sand could have under his feet. Lance froze in the hallway when he drew closer to the living room. He could feel his heart stop when the sound of sniffling drifted into the hallway. The first thing he thinks of is Pidge’s long list of allergies and the likelihood of her hay-fever acting up, he remembers several occasions when Pidge was working through a cold back at his castle. He couldn’t help the way the muscles in his shoulders tensed when the sniffling started to sound far too much like crying. He held his breath while he peered through the crack in the doorway. The room was nothing but a mismatch of dark shapes in the early morning light but he could still make out the familiar outline of Pidge curled in on herself on the couch, her shoulders shaking.

Lance’s legs remained rooted just beyond the entrance of the living room. He felt the lump form in his throat while he stood there, Pidge’s weeping echoing in his ears. He could count the number of times he had seen Pidge cry with a closed fist. He remembered several instances when Pidge had been down in the dumps after another failed attempt at rescuing her family but even then Pidge had always bounced back before he could attempt to brighten her mood. Anytime he tried to get her to open up about it she would answer with a swift punch to his shoulder or a sharp comment that made him blush. He had always accepted that about her personality, he understood that she needed her space and as her friend he was able to give her the space she needed.

However, he couldn’t stop the sharp pain in his chest, the squeezing sensation that left him breathless while he watched her. Images of his own parents relying on each other during such critical moments resurfaced from his battered memory. He thought it was normal for married couples to act that way but he couldn’t imagine treating Pidge as anything beyond a friend without an unsettling feeling rolling through his insides.

He couldn’t remember how long he stood frozen in the hallway, drowned in his own thoughts while he realised that he couldn’t just treat this Pidge as his friend. This Pidge was his wife and even after spending countless hours dreaming of love and marriage he still didn’t have the first clue about what being someone’s husband really meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were soooo many things I wanted to get through in this chapter but it was becoming oversaturated with bits and bobs.
> 
> I didn't even get to talk about the holts that much.
> 
> I took a lot of liberty with naming the rest of Lance's family members, like literally just made them up on the spot, I really hope I didn't get his brothers mixed up but this is six years later, the other one could be married at this point.
> 
> Oh tamal en cazuela is something I googled, I have never tasted it so I apologize if I have depicted it incorrectly, and I am open to suggestions if anyone who's gotten the opportunity to eat it before would like to share what it really tastes like.
> 
> That's all I can think of for now.
> 
> Thanks for making it this far.


	3. Did you miss me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy to have this done and ready to post.  
> I love these two so much.

The soft padding of feet outside his door slowly brought Lance out of his sleepless haze. He had lost track of how many sheep had jumped over an imaginary fence in his attempt to get some sleep last night. Sunlight was rapidly flooding the room, highlighting all of the belongings he didn’t recognise.

 

The door creaked open, interrupted his disconnected thoughts, a face peeking through – Pidge’s face he reminded himself.

 

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” Pidge said. Lance could only hum in response while he ignored the scratchy tone in her voice and the dark circles under her eyes.

 

“How are you feeling?” she continued, leaning against the doorway.

 

“I’m.. ok,” he said, eyeing her warily, “…Are you ok?”

 

“I’m good,” she said quickly, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“I mean… it's still morning Pidge,” he said quickly, sporting a teasing smile, “Isn’t it a little early for you to be awake?”

 

“Well someone has been forcing me awake at dawn the past year,” she said, glaring at him pointedly, “So my body has learned to cope”

 

“Wait a minute,” Lance grinned, feeling strangely satisfied, “You’re telling me that I willingly faced morning-Pidge every day for a year?!”

 

“Barely,” Pidge added, rolling her eyes.

 

“How did I manage to wake _you_  up at reasonable hours?” he said, staring at her in disbelief, “- Oh, Pidge are you ok? Your face is really red, do you have a fever?”

 

“I’m fine!” Pidge cleared her throat, avoiding his gaze while she fished her phone out of her back pocket. She showed him the screen, several missed calls from his family members flashing up in front of him.

 

“Besides, they’ve been dying to talk to you,” she said, handing him the phone before retreating to the hallway.

 

“Thank you,” he said, smiling softly as he pressed dial and the excited voice of his niece and nephew echoed throughout the room.

 

* * *

 

She’s perched on a kitchen stool, munching away on toast as crumbs tumble down her clothes and onto the floor. Her laptop is open in front of her, the reams of code reflected on her glasses as she flicks through them. The rapid clicking of each key as she types away covers the sound of his footsteps.

 

Lance finds her like this in the kitchen, her phone - low on battery after almost two hours talking to his family relatives - in his hand. He smiles at the familiar scene of Pidge lost in her own world. It’s a shocking contrast to the scene he stumbled across last night. He doesn’t notice any redness around her eyes. He considers the probability that it was all just a dream, some sort of post-coma hallucination, Pidge and breaking down weren’t usually involved with each other. She was the strongest person he knew, and there were very few things that could make her hurt so much.

 

“Are you really working on your holiday?” he began.

 

“It’s not work when you love your job,” she retorted, in between mouthfuls of buttered toast, “Your breakfast is on the counter, It’s probably cold though”

 

“Thanks,” he said, grabbing a slice of toast, “What are you working on anyway?”

 

“I’m just looking over some code for the new project Matt and I are working on,” she said, her gaze still focused on the computer screen.

 

“How is Matt doing these days?” he asked, watching her face carefully.

 

“Good, he’s been pretty busy spearheading the new aircraft division at the garrison,” she said absentmindedly, “but he’ll be fine”

 

“How are your parents?” Lance asked, mentally checking Matt off the list of things that could be wrong with Pidge.

 

“They’re pretty good, Mom is loving her job as the head botanist at the garrison, means she and Dad see each other more often now,” she said.

 

“That’s pretty cool,” Lance said, “Nothing strange going on?”

 

“Strange?” Pidge said, finally looking up from her computer, “What do you mean?”

 

“Nothing,” Lance said quickly, “Just wondering if I’ve forgotten anything important because of the amnesia, any important events? New laws? I don’t know, Is the legal drinking age still 21?”

 

“Nothing important,” she said dismissively as she closed her laptop.

 

“Are you sure?” Lance said, staring at her rigid back intently.

 

“I’m sure,” she sighed, looking back at him quietly. He couldn’t understand what she was thinking behind those eyes, her thoughts processing too quickly for him to catch up. He was certain about what he heard, about what he saw, but she seemed normal this morning.

 

“After you finish breakfast, how do you feel about going out for groceries?” she said, offering him a weak smile, “We’re reaching dangerously low levels of peanut butter here”

 

“Well, we can’t have a peanut butter crisis on top of everything going on,” Lance said, “Let’s go”

 

* * *

 

“Let’s go that way!” Lance said, shooting a pleading look towards Pidge.

 

“The grocery store is _not_ that way,” Pidge said, arms crossed refusing to look at him.

 

“Pidge!” Lance said, “It’s the park, I haven’t seen it in deca-phoebs – or at least I don’t remember – but I can’t not go, I used to-”

 

“- Go there all the time as a kid,” Pidge said, eyebrow raised, “Trust me, I’ve been filled in on how this place was practically your second home growing up – I still don’t understand how anyone could stand the grass stains”

 

“Let’s go!” Lance said, excitedly pulling her through the park entrance by the arm, ignoring any further protests about getting side-tracked.

 

Lance’s eyes widened in surprise as he took in the sight of the park. The old marble fountain that stood in front of the entrance had seen better days, with more than a few dents and scratches on its surface. Patches of white and yellow wildflowers were interspersed with the green grass, that seemed a few days overdue for cutting. The trees were a lot taller than he remembered, and there were a few missing but then again, he was thankful the park survived the Galra invasion at all.

 

“Ok, you’ve seen the park, can we go now?” Pidge said, eyeing the wildflowers warily.

 

“We can’t go without seeing the playground!” Lance said, nudging Pidge forwards, “It will be fun”

 

Lance watched Pidge’s face carefully, her nose still scrunched up, as she glared at him. She hadn’t said more than two words at a time as they got ready to leave the house. Pidge was normally grouchy before she had her daily dose of peanut-butter, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was still hung up about _something_. He hoped the carefree environment of the playground could loosen her up a little. He continued down a familiar pathway, towards the playground, looking behind him several times to check that Pidge was still following him grudgingly down the path.

 

“Come on Pidge!” Lance said, impatiently grabbing her hand and pulling her the rest of the way, “The playground is amazing!”

 

“I know,” Pidge said, a small smile making its way onto her features, “You bring me here every time we pass by”

 

“Really?” Lance said, stopping for a moment while he leaned against the bars of the jungle gym. They were rustier than the last time he used them as a kid but still seemed stable enough to hold his weight.

 

“This,” Pidge said, smirking as she pointed to a spot under the monkey bars, “Is where you broke your arm, after you fell off the monkey bars when Luis dared you to hang from them upside down”

 

“It was raining that day,” Lance defended, grimacing as he recalled the earful he got from his mother when they were in A&E.

 

“Over here,” Pidge said, moving over to sit on the swings, “Is where you lost a tooth because you tried to swing high enough to go over the bar”

 

“I was young,” Lance said, cheeks flushing in embarrassment at his youthful antics, “Everyone makes bad decisions when they’re young – it was a phase!”

 

“Clearly, not everyone can grow out of that phase,” Pidge teased, as she spun on the carousel.

 

Lance huffed with his arms crossed, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he quickly grabbed the handle bars of the carousel and began running around in a circle. He burst into silent laughter as Pidge began screaming profanities – thankfully all the kids were still away at school, although they received several scowls from some of the elderly patrons passing by – before bursting into fits of laughter herself.

 

“I’m sorry Pidge, what was that?” Lance laughed, hands on his knees as he stood next to the carousel as it continued to spin with Pidge holding on for dear life.

 

“I’m sorry!” Pidge barked, tears in her eyes from the fast pace of the carousel and from her laughter, “Make it stop already”

 

“That doesn’t sound like a sincere apology to me,” Lance said, finally catching his breath, “Maybe a few more spins will change your tone”

 

“Don’t. You. Dare.” Pidge said, trying her best to keep her eyes on him as she spun around.

 

Lance’s shoulders continued to shake with silent laughter as he approached, finally putting a stop to the carousel.

 

“You..” Pidge said, pointing at every direction except Lance.

 

“ _All_ of you,” Pidge continued, seeing multiple images of Lance as she tried to move without falling, “Are evil and deserve semi-permanent injury”

 

Lance couldn’t help his bark of laughter as Pidge tried to threaten the nearby swing set, her legs still wobbling.

 

“Don’t laugh when I’m threatening to maim you,” Pidge said, turning quickly towards the sound of his voice which was a bad decision as she stumbled and was three seconds away from faceplanting into the dirt.

 

“Careful,” Lance said, catching her easily in his arms, steadying her by the shoulders as she dropped her head against his chest, effectively head butting his breast bone.

 

“- All your fault,” she mumbled into his chest, her eyes finally focusing on him.

 

“You can’t say you didn’t have fun,” Lance smiled as she glared up at him, her face close enough that he could count the freckles dusting her cheeks. Her face was red from laughter and her hair was definitely more tangled than it was ten minutes ago but were her eyelashes always that long?

 

“I’m here by removing your garlic knot privileges,” Pidge announced, pushing away from him with a smirk.

 

“Pidge!” Lance said, as he chased her around the park, “Let’s talk about this!”

 

* * *

 

“Isn’t this too much peanut butter?” Lance said, as he watched Pidge place a fifth jar of peanut butter in to their shopping cart.

 

“Can you survive without oxygen?” Pidge said, her voice low as she stared at him darkly.

 

“Point taken,” Lance said, quickly pushing their cart to the next section, “Why are we buying so much food?”

 

“Hunk is visiting the day after tomorrow,” Pidge said, trying to decide between two different types of tomato sauce, “So he’ll want ingredients to cook with”

 

“Hunk is coming?!” Lance said, excitedly leaning over the cart to catch her attention, “Since when?”

 

“We’ve actually had that planned for a while,” Pidge admitted, “I forgot to remind you yesterday, I was a bit more focused on – _you know_ ”

 

“Right,” Lance nodded as he remembered how badly their plan to rejog his memory went.

 

They managed to walk to the produce aisle in comfortable silence, as they inspect the freshness of the fruit and vegetables together before Lance stops their cart.

 

“We need to get ice cream,” Lance said, snapping his fingers as he looked for the frozen section.

 

“Lance, no,” Pidge said, tugging their cart towards the legumes, “It will melt before we manage to walk home”

 

“Pffft, Pidge, you’re with me,” Lance said, tugging their cart and bringing it to a hault, “I can run the ice cream back faster than you can say Voltron”

 

“Lance, it’s 30o out there,” Pidge said, crossing her arms over her chest, “You are not faster than sun rays”

 

“Come on Pidge!” Lance began, eyes twinkling with mischief, as he grabbed a bunch of bananas from the shelf, holding them up to her face, “Ice cream is just so _‘appeeling’_ right now”

 

“Tell me you’re not doing this right now,” Pidge said, roughly pulling the bunch of bananas away from him and chucking it into their cart.

 

“C’mon Pidge,” Lance said, pulling her towards the legumes, “No need to be so _‘grump-pea’_ ”

 

“I don’t know you,” Pidge said, as she tried to escape to the dairy section. Lance laughed as he pushed their trolley after her, careful not to hit any other customers.

 

“Pidge, you know it’s a _‘grate’_ idea,” Lance laughed, as he pulled their cart to a stop next to a wide variety of grated cheeses.

 

“One more pun,” Pidge said through gritted teeth, while she aggressively chose a packet of grated cheese to place in their cart, “And I will crush you like a _grape_ ”

 

“That wasn’t even a pun Pidge,” Lance said, strategically placing the cart in between them to prevent any potential bodily harm, “You could at least put some effort in”

 

“Lance,” Pidge warned, the light from the cheese section emphasising her glare.

 

“Alright, alright,” Lance said, the rest of the dairy section catching his eye, “I guess I ‘butter’ back off”

 

“I will mur-”

 

“You two make such a cute couple,” a store clerk cut in, smiling at the pair.

 

“Thanks-”

 

“Oh, we’re not-” Lance began before he stopped himself, eyes widening.

 

He quickly turned to see the fire in Pidges eyes fizzle out while she stared coolly at him. Her expression devoid of the laughter from earlier. Instead of looking at him, it was as if she was staring past him. He felt fear squeeze at his insides as he was reminded of the time before they were friends, when she had shut herself away from anyone at the garrison, no matter how hard he tried to become his friend. He wasn’t sure how long they stood like that, in the dairy aisle, with nothing but the hum of the refrigerated shelves filling the silence between them.

 

“Pidge-” he began.

 

“Let’s go home”

 

* * *

 

“Where do these go?” Lance said, warily showing her the cans of tomato sauce.

 

Pidge barely spares a glance at the tomato sauce, while she’s placing the fresh vegetables into the fridge, “First cupboard”

 

Lance thanks her and they continue putting away their groceries in silence.

 

“Do you need any help with those?” Lance asked when Pidge tries to reach the higher shelves.

 

“It’s fine,” she said, focusing on her task.

 

“So what time is Hunk coming the day after tomorrow?” Lance said, trying to catch her gaze.

 

“2pm,” Pidge said, not even looking up as she carefully folded away their shopping bags.

 

“I wonder how he’s been doing lately,” Lance chattered, “Did he finally manage to ask Shay out on a date?”

 

“They’re doing ok,” Pidge said, refusing to meet his gaze.

 

“I’m sorry,” Lance said, moving closer towards her.

 

Pidge finally stopped bustling around the kitchen to look at him her eyebrows crinkled together in confusion.

 

“I’m..I’m sorry for what I said back at the grocery store,” Lance said, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration.

 

“Lance, It’s not your fault,” Pidge sighed, wrapping her arms around her torso, “You don’t have _anything_ to apologise for”

 

“Then why are you so upset?” Lance said, taking another step towards her, “I know when I’ve done something wrong, Pidge”

 

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” Pidge said, taking a step backwards.

 

“But I _have_ upset you?” Lance asked quietly, moving in closer, effectively trapping her between himself and the kitchen counter.

 

“I’m not upset!” she said defensively, leaning away from him, “I’m just a little tired”

 

“Then why were you crying last night?” he said, suddenly leaving them both stunned at his words.

 

Pidge looks up at him with her eyebrows raised and from this distance he can see the hurt in brimming in her eyes far too clearly. It was clear enough that it he could feel an invisible force press against his chest. The pressure making it difficult to breathe.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, quickly stepping away from her.

 

“I told you,” she said, her jaw tightening, “You don’t have anything to apologise for”

 

“Fine!” Lance huffed, “Then tell me what’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing is wrong,” Pidge said, her voice raising unsteadily, “I told you I’m fine”

 

“People don’t cry because they’re fine, Pidge!” he said, raising his voice as the pressure in his chest was causing him too much frustration.

 

“I _am_ fine,” Pidge said, turning away before he could see the tears spilling from her eyes.

 

“Pidge,” he said softly, his anger and frustration melting away as he a nauseating feeling of worry washed over him, “talk to me”

 

“I just-” Pidge exhaled loudly, “I just miss you”

 

“I’m.. here for you Pidge,” Lance said.

 

He watched silently as she tried to wipe the tears from her eyes, still struggling to understand what she meant.

 

“I know Lance,” she said, smiling bitterly, “but I miss my husband- I miss holding your hand, hugging you and sleeping next to you, I miss the way you used to look at me… I miss hearing you say that you love me”

 

Her cheeks were completely red now, mirroring Lance’s own burning face as he considered what she was saying.

 

“You almost died Lance. I didn’t know what I was going to do if you didn’t pull through,” she said, pausing briefly as she tried to hold in her tears, “and I am _so_ happy that you’re ok – you have no idea how much it means to me just to be able to hear your voice again”

 

“Pidge-” he breathed, the pressure in his chest overwhelming him to the point where his vision was blurred with tears of his own.

 

“but I didn’t get all of you back,” she said, her shoulder slumping in defeat, “And I don’t know what to do”  

 

“What am I supposed to do?” he croaked, his own tears threatening to spill over.

 

“You don’t have to do anything,” she said, shoulders shaking as she tried to hold back her sobs, “This isn’t your fault. Do you understand me? None of this is your fault”

 

Lance couldn’t say anything. The lump in his throat was preventing anything but sobs to escape him, His body seemed to move on instinct, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in close. She buried her head in his chest while he rested his chin on top of her head, fitting together comfortably.

 

“I don’t want you to feel like this,” Lance mumbled into her hair, “What should I do?”

 

“You can’t do anything,” Pidge said quietly, gently pulling away as she vacated the space in his arms but Lance still felt as if she had taken something from him, “Feelings don’t work that way. You can’t make my feelings go away and I can’t just make you love me again”

 

Lance reached forward to dry her tears, his body aching to see her smile again. Pidge gently pushed his hands away, drying her tears with the back of her sleeve.

 

“Then what are we going to do?” Lance asked.

 

“ _You_ are going to focus on being healthy,” Pidge said, making sure he could see the seriousness in her gaze, “That is the _only_ thing you have to do”

 

“What about you?”

 

“I’m going to help you get your life back,” Pidge said, looking up at him with a resigned smile, “It will involve a lot of studying if you want to remember how to teach your classes in the garrison again,”

 

“What about _us_?” Lance asked hesitantly.

 

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Pidge smiled weakly, “We can work that out later on, right now, we can just be... friends”

 

Lance tries to return her smile, but he can’t help but think how  _wrong_ the word sounded right now.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has gone through many many reconstructions.  
> This chapter didn't exist originally but I felt it was necessary to transition into the next part with the correct emotions - if that makes any sense.  
> I just want to write their happy ending but I keep getting lost in the angst - I actually felt really bad for putting Pidge in this position but that's where the story went, Pidge I am so sorry, Lance too - nothing is your fault Lance!- this story has a mind of its own I swear.  
> There's a lot of things I wanted to deal with but the mood/feeling of the story isn't there yet - I'm hoping for things to start proceeding to happier moments soon.  
> Thank you for reading to this point, your criticism is appreciated and now I need to focus on the next chapter without getting distracted by other plot bunnies.


	4. head or the heart, who is really in charge here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments and kudos. 
> 
> Please enjoy a fluffier chapter for making it this far.

“600-57-1991?” Lance said, staring at the word document Pidge had entitled ‘The Paladin’s Guide to Lance McClain’, “What’s that?”

 

“Your social security number,” Pidge said, an eyebrow raised, “How can you not remember your social security number, you’ve had it your whole life?”

 

“Pidge, who memorises their social security number?” Lance countered, scooting over on the couch to see her laptop screen more clearly.

 

“People who want to get a passport, apply for loans, open a bank account…” Pidge said as she counted the items on her fingers.

 

“Ok, ok, what’s next?” Lance said, slapping her fingers away.

 

“This..” Pidge said, as she typed down another set of lines, “is our permanent home address”

 

“Wait- we live in the ‘rich people zone’?!” Lance said, eyes widening comically as he reread the postal code, “How much does Shiro pay us exactly?”

 

“Hate to break it to you Lance, but that’s not the ‘rich people zone’ anymore,” Pidge laughed, “When the Galra took over they flattened all those mansions to the ground, it’s just a bunch of regular suburbs now”

 

“We save the entire universe and we can’t have a mansion?” Lance whined, shoulders slumping in disappointment, “Does the Garrison have a nice dental plan at least?”

 

“We have a pretty nice cafeteria,” Pidge said thoughtfully, continuing to type on the laptop, “Taco Tuesdays are pretty cool, they’re Hunk approved”

 

“How much money do I make?” Lance asked, a large grin on his face.

 

“… about this much,” Pidge said, punctuating his yearly salary with a full stop on the file.

 

“ _That_ much! Pidge, that’s huge!” Lance began excitedly, counting the digits displayed on the screen.

 

“ _Not_ when you adjust for inflation,” Pidge laughed bitterly, choosing to ignore how Lance quickly deflated like a balloon, “The Galra Invasion destroyed a lot more than just the buildings”

 

“Is there anything that survived the Galra Invasion?” Lance asked, slumped into their couch cushions.

 

“Taxes are doing pretty well,” Pidge asked, turning to face him, “Speaking of which, you need to update your tax-”

 

“I don’t want to know,” Lance said quickly, holding up a hand to block anything else she was writing on the word document, “Isn’t there anything _cool_ about myself that I need to know?”

 

“Apparently the students at the Garrison think you’re a pretty cool teacher,” Pidge said, a teasing smile on her face, “I’m pretty sure they’re just happy they don’t have Iverson but-”

 

“I’m the Handsome-badass Instructor,” Lance smirked, “Now _that_ is pretty cool”

 

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t mention the words handsome or badass anywhere in that sentence?” Pidge deadpanned.

 

“It was _implied_ ,” Lance said, an eyebrow raised in challenge, “What is Instructor Lance McClain like, Pidge? Inspiring? Dreamy? Do I have a fanclub?”

 

“Instructor Lance McClain is _busy,_ ” Pidge rolled her eyes at him, as she began looking for a particular file on her computer, “You take on a ridiculous amount of classes every year, so if you want to keep being Instructor Lance McClain you’ll need to read up on these”

 

“What. Is. _That_?” Lance gaped at the size of the files she opened, a series of colour coded excel sheets and tables, “and why is there so much of it?”

 

“These bad boys are your lesson plans,” Pidge said, her shoulders shaking in silent laughter as Lance took the computer from her for a better look.

 

“Why are they so detailed?” Lance said, flicking through the never-ending documents.

 

“You put a lot of effort in,” Pidge said, “You have a lot of students after all”

 

“How are there this many flight students?” Lance asked, exasperatedly scrolling at the files on his classes.

 

 “That’s actually because of you,” Pidge said.

 

“What? My prowess as a flight instructor caused an overwhelming influx of students who wanted my guidance?” he said, smirking as she elbowed him in the side.

 

“The _first_ thing you did as the Garrison’s flight instructor was demand they allow more students in to the fighter pilot programme,” Pidge explained, rolling her eyes at his antics, “and when the Garrison directors said no, you said you’d take on double the amount of classes to accommodate the students – ‘Any Cadet willing to work hard deserves a chance’- Is what you told them”

 

Lance couldn’t stop the floodgates from opening as memories of his time as a garrison student poured into the forefront of his mind. The heart wrenching feeling of having to tell his family that he had failed to get into the fighter pilot programme resurfaced, along with the crushing weight of knowing that he had been so close. He still remembered how he began crumbling under the pressure of finally getting in to the programme to be reminded that it was only because someone else had dropped out. He remembered trying to hide his insecurities as he failed to lead his team through their simulator missions – _repeatedly_. He was snapped back to reality when he felt the warmth of a hand resting on his shoulder, he followed it to see Pidge smiling back at him.

 

“ _That’s_ who Instructor Lance McClain is,” Pidge said, the soft smile never leaving her face, “He is pretty cool”

 

For as long as he remembered knowing her, he had never seen her smile that way at him. He remembered the proud grins she would display whenever she proved him wrong. There were the teasing smirks she wore whenever she called him out for doing something ridiculous. He remembered her tearful smile when she was finally reunited with her father and eventually her mother, but this was different. Her eyes were so _warm_ that couldn’t help but pull at his shirt collar as the room suddenly turned into an oven. The heat was doing strange things to his insides as an unfamiliar flutter tore through him. Maybe he really should visit the doctor soon. Lance tried to clear his throat, but the odd feeling remained.   ~~~~

 

“Are you ok?” Pidge said, concern washing away whatever it was he saw in her eyes before.

 

“I’m ok,” Lance coughed, pounding his chest to reset the strange rhythm of his heart beat, “It was probably just your cooking this morning”

 

“The toast was a _little_ crispy,” Pidge huffed, “It wasn’t going to kill you”

 

“It was practically charcoal,” Lance said, pointing a finger accusatorily at her.

 

“I like my toast that way!” Pidge retorted, slapping his fingers away.

 

“We are eating _out_ for lunch,” Lance announced.

 

* * *

 

Lance subconsciously began bobbing his head to the music playing on the car radio while he began flicking through his wallet. Pidge had fished it out before they hopped in, still refusing to let him drive the car. He peeked across to see her drumming her fingers against the steering wheel, her eyes glued to the road. Lance opened his wallet to find his driver’s license staring back at him. He mirrored the way his license photo smiled proudly. He briefly wondered what Pidge’s driver’s license photo looked like, reminding himself to steal a glance at it later.

 

He continued to flick through his wallet’s contents, skipping through his different bank cards. He even found a coupon for hair gel, he would save that for later. He continued to dig through a series of old receipts and vouchers that were stuffed into his wallet, until he stumbled on a long string of band-aids. His eyebrows were raised as he didn’t recall being so enthusiastic about safety before. He continued to pull out the band-aids until his hand came into contact with a small packet. He pulled it out – stared – then released an embarrassingly unmanly scream.

“What?! What?! What is it?” Pidge screamed, the car begin to swerve as she tried to look at whatever Lance was freaking out about.

 

She pulled the car over as she took several deep breaths, “What the heck is wrong with you?”

 

Lance’s mouth opened and closed several times as he looked at her, then the packet that had now fallen to his lap, words refusing to get further than his throat as his cheeks started burning red.

 

“Oh my quiznak,” Pidge said, before she burst into laughter, “Is that a-”

 

“-Pidge, this isn’t funny,” Lance finally managed to spout through gritted teeth, his arms still raised as he refused to look at the packet on his lap.

 

“Hold on, hold on,” Pidge squealed in between her laughter, “I need to take a photo of this”

 

“Pidge!” Lance shouted, trying to steal the phone out of her grasp, “Don’t you dare!”

 

“Alright, alright,” Pidge conceded, happy that she managed to snap a photo of his distress, “I promise not to show anyone the photos of you freaking out over a condom”

 

“I am not freaking out!” Lance shouted.

 

“It’s ok Lance,” Pidge said, wiping the tears from her eyes, “You don’t need to be embarrassed”

 

“I’m not embarrassed,” Lance said through gritted teeth.

 

“You’re right, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about being prepared,” Pidge said, her grin turning mischievous.

 

“What am I supposed to do with it?” Lance said, his voice wobbling as he looked at the packet still resting on his lap.

 

“Well, Lance, when a man and a woman-” Pidge teased, as she pulled back onto the road.

 

“Pidge,” Lance groaned, rubbing a hand across his face.

 

“killjoy,” Pidge said, sticking her tongue out at him, “You can throw it in the glovebox with the others”

 

She winked mischievously as Lance glared at her before quickly hiding the packet with several others in the car’s glovebox. He turned up the radio to try and cover the annoying sound of Pidge’s cackling.

 

* * *

 

After their lunch, Pidge lead them down a familiar walkway that soon grew into a large square that Lance would recognise from anywhere. Lance’s eyes widened at the straw topped stalls, filled with various goods from food to fridge magnets portraying Varadero’s stunning white sand beach. The market place was bustling with tourists and locals, buying and selling goods. The noise of people bargaining and taking photos was enough to remind him of memories before he left for the garrison, when his siblings would take him out here to see people from all over the world appreciate their home. The warmth budding in his chest bloomed into excitement as he practically runs past Pidge, missing the soft look in her eyes.

 

“Pidge, look!” he said, dragging her from stall to stall.

 

“Lance, the press will have a field day if they notice the right hand of Voltron running through the markets like a kid on Christmas Day,” she said, smiling as he played with some of the decorated maracas being sold at the stalls.

 

“Pidge, every day being back home is Christmas Day,” Lance said seriously, shaking a painted wooden fan in her face, emphasising his point.

 

She simply raised an eyebrow at the fan before rolling her eyes. Lance left her with no time to comment as he sped over to another stall.

 

“Lance you’re worse than the _actual_ tourists,” Pidge said as she avoided several tourist groups as she trailed behind him.

 

“Let’s buy something,” Lance said, pulling her towards a stall filled with classic ‘I love Varadero’ t-shirts.

 

“Lance, you already have an ‘I love Varadero’ t-shirt,” Pidge said, trying to avoid Lance as he attempted to shove her into a t-shirt, “We come here every year – we don’t need t-shirts”

 

“It’s not about the t-shirt Pidge,” Lance said, sending her a pleading look as he held the t-shirt close to his chest, “Buying one is like creating a memory”

 

“You are not using your memory loss to make me buy things we don’t need,” Pidge said, raising her hands to block his gaze.

 

She muttered her apologies to the saleswoman, before pulling Lance farther away from the tourist stalls. Lance relented, pouting slightly as he glared at her. His sullen mood didn’t stay long before another stall caught his eye.

 

“Pidge, this is amazing!” he said, “It’s us!!!”

 

“Bobble heads?” she deadpanned.

 

“It’s _us_ as bobble heads,” he said, holding his bobble head-self up to her, “Isn’t this amazing?”

 

“I guess,” she shrugged, inspecting the likeness of her own bobble head. 

 

“Sir, how much is this?” he said, asking the vendor who had his nose buried in the daily newspaper.

 

“One bobble-head is six dollars, buy five get one free,” the vendor mumbled into his paper.

 

“Pidge, we need them!” Lance said, looking through each bobble head figure. 

 

“Lance, there’s a whole museum about the paladins, we don’t need bobble heads of ourselves,” she said, putting her bobble head back down, “Besides, everything is always overpriced at these tourist markets”

 

“But Pidge!” he began, “Look at bobble head Lance, the likeness is amazing, he’s so handsome!”

 

“They managed to capture your big head at least,” she smiled fondly at the Lance bobble head.

 

“Ok, I resent that,” he said, swiping his bobble head figure back from her clutches, “We can buy a whole set, all six Paladins! They even have a Coran!”

 

“Lance, where are you going to put them?” she reminded him.

 

“C’mon Pidge,” he urged, showing her the Keith bobble head, “Look at how well they made Keith, he looks so accurately emo”

 

Pidge finally laughed at the Keith bobble head, appreciating the detail the woodworkers took to get Keith’s characteristic lack of expression correctly. Lance beamed at her excitedly before she composed herself and put the Keith bobble head back in its place.

 

“We are only getting one -” She began.

 

“Two,” Lance pleaded, “The paladins of Voltron are never-”

 

“Fine, you can pick two” Pidge said, throwing her hands up in defeat and walking away from the stall before he could convince her otherwise.  

 

Lance grinned as he decided on which bobble head to choose. He immediately plucked his own bobblehead from the display, he couldn’t bare the tragedy of parting with such beautiful art. His eyes slid past the series of bobbleheads, smiling as he remembered that their real-life counterparts.

 

“Can I help you with anything, Sir?” the stall owner said, his tone revealing his boredom as he put away his newspaper.

 

“I’m just trying to decide which one to get,” Lance said, tearing his gaze away from Pidge in bobblehead form to look at the rest of the Paladin’s.

 

“The Keith bobblehead is very popular?” the owner suggested, fanning himself with his folded-up newspaper.

 

“No thanks,” Lance said, quickly dismissing the idea of seeing Keith more often than necessary. Absence makes the heart grow fonder – or at least prevents them from killing each other where he and Keith are concerned.

 

“Are you a fan of the yellow paladin?” the merchant said, an eyebrow raised.

 

Lance contemplated the idea of showing Hunk his bobblehead tomorrow until his eyes noticed a slightly shorter bobblehead next to Hunk’s. He picked up the green Paladin’s bobblehead, complete with Matt’s glasses. He smiled as he ran over the bumpy ridges on the crown of the bobblehead, realising how well they had represented her constantly tangled hair. The artist had opted to draw blush marks onto the figurine. He couldn’t think of a time Pidge had ever blushed from embarrassment. It was usually frustration or anger, usually directed at himself. However, he did approve of how well the artist captured her eyes, tempting him with knowledge and secrets that he could never understand without assistance, but bright enough to blind you if you stared for too long.

 

“Would you like the Queen’s bobblehead?” the merchant ask offering him Allura’s bobblehead counterpart, snapping Lance from his thoughts, “We have a special edition of the Queen in her coronation dress – it should be around here somewhere...”

 

The stall owner continued to sift through Allura’s bobblehead section while Lance studied the bobblehead in question. There was an odd feeling that settled in his stomach as he stared at the princess – Queen, he reminded himself – in bobblehead form. Her silver hair was dusted with sparkles as the bobblehead posed with her bayard. The one who brought them all together, beautiful, even with an oversized head. Even as he remembered the real Allura’s smile, he couldn’t help the way his heart sunk with _something_ as yesterday’s conversation with Pidge replayed in his mind. The tears that streaked down her cheeks burned in his memory.

 

“Which one would you like?” the merchant asked.

 

Lance paused for a long moment, waiting for the burning sensation in his chest to _stop._

 

“I... don’t think I need these bobbleheads after all,” Lance admitted, apologising to the merchant before slipping away to find Pidge.

 

* * *

 

He finds her standing on her tip toes as she fails to peek over a large crowd of people gathered around what he assumed was a street performer. He can’t help his smile as she fails to hide her curiosity, getting continuously more frustrated as her height failed her.

 

“I don’t think that’s going to help much,” he said, gesturing to how she continued to stand on her toes.

 

“I see you still remember all your height jokes,” Pidge said, dropping her feet flat on the ground as she looked at him suspiciously, “You took forever at the store – wait, you didn’t buy more than two, did you?”

 

“Let’s get a closer look,” Lance said, pulling her into the crowds in hopes that she wouldn’t question him further.

 

Pidge’s yelp was swallowed up by the crowds as they weaved their way through until they were at the front, the performer finally visible to Pidge. Lance ignored the annoyed glares pointed their way as Pidge began to enjoy the performance.

 

An elderly man, with wrinkles framing his smile was plucking a familiar tune away on his guitar, which had enraptured his audience, including Pidge. She was completely focused on the guitarist, analysing the performance similarly to how she would analyse her code, as if everything around her didn’t exist and she could only see whatever she wanted to see. The guitarist’s song continued to draw in more people, tourists and locals alike, the crowd continued to push in closer. He quickly grabbed Pidge’s arm, making sure he didn’t lose her tiny form in the sea of people. She absentmindedly curled her arm around his, leaning against his side as she continued to focus on the performance. Lance couldn’t help but admire her eyes, the bobblehead didn’t hold a candle to the real thing. He still couldn’t figure out what this one was thinking half the time when she shone her eyes at him, usually in annoyance but sometimes there would be a strange series of emotions that he couldn’t recognise.

 

An eruption of applause signalled the end of the performance. Pidge also released his arm to applaud the performer. Lance wondered why his arm felt so cold as he joined in to clap loudly for the guitarist. He realised he couldn’t remember what the performer had been playing in the first place. He assumed he must have been amazing if he was capable of holding Pidge’s attention, a feat he had only seen achieved by innovative engineering designs or a new Olkari invention.

 

“When did you start enjoying life outside of your computer?” Lance said, eager to start their usual banter. When he received no response, he turned to his side to find Pidge nowhere near him. He quickly spun around trying to catch a glimpse of her before his eyes landed on her familiar figure speeding away. He ran to catch up to her, ready to call out her name before he saw someone, he didn’t recognise shaking her hand.

 

The tall man looked familiar, he stood a head taller than Pidge, shaking her hand enthusiastically. He walked over, his face crinkling into a frown as the man rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, saying something to Pidge that made her blush. Lance couldn’t help but double take as embarrassment washed over Pidge, the one friend he found was never embarrassed over anything. Lance sauntered over to her, as they continued to converse.

 

“It’s great to see you so energetic today,” the man said, smiling down at Pidge.

 

Lance raised an eyebrow, ready to dispute how Pidge is always bubbling with energy as if she’s had too much coffee – which was often the case.

 

“I’m glad to know you’re not actually enslaved in the hospital,” Pidge said, her smile changing into a knowing smirk, earning a laugh from the man.

 

Lance couldn’t help but scoff as they laughed together at whatever joke he wasn’t privy to, snapping their attention to him and putting a stop to their laughter.

 

“Mr. McClain,” the man greeted, holding out a hand, Lance contemplated ignoring his gesture before Pidge elbowed him in his side, sending him a reprimanding glare.

 

“And you are?” Lance said, pretending that Pidge’s elbows weren’t as sharp as knives.

 

“Lance, this is Dr. Silva, he was your doctor after your accident,” Pidge explained, smiling at this Dr. Silva.

 

“It was nice meeting you Dr. Silva,” Lance said, dropping the man’s hand, “but I’m sure you’re very busy, so I wouldn’t want to take up too much of your time”

 

“Not at all, it’s a pleasure to see you,” he said, blushing as he looked at Pidge.

 

Lance could feel the twitch in his jaw as he gritted his teeth when Pidge _laughed._ The man didn’t even say anything funny to warrant a laugh from Pidge.

 

“It’s good to see you too,” Pidge said, returning his smile.

 

“Well, we have to get to the beach before sunset,” Lance said, earning a confused glance from Pidge, “So I hope you have a lovely day”

 

“Right,” the man agreed, shaking both their hands again in turn, “I’ll let you two enjoy your date. Mr. McClain, Katie”

 

Lance glared at the doctor’s retreating back, uncomfortable with how he felt familiar enough with Pidge to call her Katie.

 

“What was that?” Pidge said, hands on her hips as she stood in front of him, effectively preventing him from glaring daggers at Dr. Silva.

“What was what?” Lance coughed, trying to avoid her questioning gaze. Pidge examined him for another moment, a strange look in her eye before she spoke again.

 

“Since, when are we going to the beach to watch the sunset?” Pidge said, poking him in the chest.

 

“We can’t go to the beach front and _not_ watch the sunset, Pidge,” Lance said, waving his arms around dramatically, “That’s like insulting the beach”

 

“The beach isn’t sentient,” Pidge reminded him, rolling her eyes at his hand gestures.

 

“To the land-locked maybe,” Lance said, looking pointedly at her, “I can’t help that she speaks to me”

 

Pidge is speechless as she stares at his serious face before her shoulders start shaking in laughter. She continues to walk with him as she rants about how there are miles of beaches in Italy and he forgets that Dr. Silva was making her laugh just a minute ago.

 

* * *

 

They’ve walked far enough down the beach that the buzz of tourists and merchants has faded into the gentle crash of waves against the sand. He insists that they sit down in the sand to enjoy the sunset and it takes the promise of baking her three dozen peanut butter cookies before she plops down next to him.

 

“See, it’s not so bad,” Lance said, leaning back while he supported his weight with his hands.

 

“It’s everywhere,” Pidge said, in a low voice as she tried to make as little contact with the sandy beach as possible.

 

“Of course, it’s everywhere, it’s a beach,” Lance said, smirking at her.

 

“You’re a beach,” Pidge huffed.

 

Lance couldn’t help but chuckle at her discomfort as she tried to rearrange herself without getting more sand stuck to her skin. She eventually found a decent spot where she was comfortable enough to flick some sand at him, to which he dodged expertly.

 

“I hope you get sand burn,” Pidge said, when she realised her attacks weren’t going to hit him.

 

“That’s not a real thing,” Lance said, raising his hands up in defence, “Besides, this is worth it, the sunsets on Varadero are-”

 

“One of a kind,” Pidge finished for him, a knowing smile on her face.

 

“Have I mentioned that often?” Lance said sheepishly.

 

“Every time you see the sun,” Pidge explained, resting her chin in her hands in a way that squished her cheeks together, “but I actually know that from experience”

 

“You’ve seen it already?” Lance said, surprised she would be interested in watching the sunset before.

 

“Yeah,” Pidge said, her eyes focused on a spot of the beach in the distance, “Our... wedding ceremony was at sunset”

 

Lance grew quiet as he considered the idea of having his wedding on the beach at sunset. It seemed so _perfect_. He couldn’t stop the odd flip-flop in his stomach as he envisioned the woman next to him, dressed in a white gown, smiling up at him as the sun set behind her. The image was vivid enough to send a shiver down his spine as the sun began to set around them. The light blue skies were dissolving into endless shades of red and orange. The sun itself turning pink as it turned in for the night.

 

“If it sounds cheesy, it’s because it was your idea,” Pidge said, a small smile on her face as she peeked at him from the corner of her eye, “We argued for months over where we were-”

 

“What was it like?” he asked. The question slipping out before he could stop himself.

 

“Our arguments?” Pidge asked, her eyes glinting in challenge.

 

“Our wedding?” Lance said, his face not betraying any emotion. He wasn’t sure what emotions he was feeling exactly.

 

Pidge paused for a moment in thought, leaning back on her hands, mirroring Lance’s position. She let out a deep exhale as she turned to him, the challenge disappearing from her gaze, leaving an odd warmth in its place, one that made Lance’s cheeks burn.

 

“It was stressful,” Pidge chuckled, “There were seating arrangements, and flower arrangements and my dress refused to let me walk three feet without tripping me up-”

 

Lance laughed at the idea of Pidge being swallowed whole by a dress, a hilarious end to their courageous Green Paladin.

 

“-If that wasn’t bad enough, my Dad burst into tears before we could walk down the aisle,” she continued, throwing her head back as she laughed at the memory, “So naturally that meant I started crying, so both of us were a sobbing mess as we walked down the aisle _but-_ ”

 

“But?” Lance said, his chuckles dying down.

 

“It was pretty nice having you at the end of the aisle, ready to catch me when I did eventually trip,” she said, biting her lip as she recalled the memory, “but you were definitely crying more than me – I have video evidence – It was an ugly mess”

 

They continued to laugh until they were both out of breath. Several, threats of uncovering the videos to decide who was really the ugliest crier before they fell quiet again, a comfortable silence settling between them.

 

Lance thought about her words. The idea of his wedding nothing but shapes and shadows as he tried to envision it on the beach. It sounded so _imperfect_ but the way Pidge smiled softly into the distance, her eyes shining with what he could only recognise as happiness, made him realise that imperfection was ok with him.

 

“Do you remember anything?” Pidge asked tentatively.

 

“Not really,” Lance admitted, running a hand through his hair in frustration as he tried to ignore the weight of losing his memories – memories of his entire marriage- that was currently crushing him, “I’ve been having these weird dreams the past few nights, but I can’t tell what’s real and what’s my imagination – it’s just a series of flashes that I can’t make sense of”

 

“Weird how?” Pidge asked, turning to face him.

 

“I don’t know,” Lance said, cheeks reddening under her gaze, “it’s just weird”

 

“oh,” Pidge said, her eyes glinting in mischief, “like wet dreams?”

 

If anyone ever asked, Lance maturely put a stop to any notion that he was having wet dreams. However, for the moment he would have to deal with Pidge’s cackling as his face glowed red as he choked on air.

 

“Pidge, really?” Lance spluttered.

 

“It’s ok Lance,” Pidge said, wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes, “You’ve already told me about your old wet Shiro dreams-”

 

“-Excuse me?”

 

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” She cooed softly, a teasing smile still plastered onto her face, “We’ve _all_ been there”

 

“Excuse me, while I go drown myself in the ocean,” Lance said.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't supposed to end that way, hehe. That scene was supposed to have occurred in the car but after the last three chapters ending on such angsty notes I wanted to give these two some peace and quiet for once. 
> 
> These two are so adorkable and I love them. 
> 
> This chap needs more editing but It's 2am my time and I have had enough - I'll fix it later - she says even though there are still typos from chapters 1-3. 
> 
> And yes I finally managed to sneak a Holt fam member cameo. 
> 
> Thanks again for making it all the way down here.


End file.
